


Keep your Eyes off that Goalkeeper

by indigovioletstargazer



Category: Homeland
Genre: Bad Flirting, Blackmail, Deception, F/M, FIFA World Cup 2014, Football | Soccer, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigovioletstargazer/pseuds/indigovioletstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carrie flies to the World Cup final in Brazil to catch the soccer-crazy extortionist who is blackmailing Majid Javadi. Quinn isn't pleased when she gets distracted by a sexy guy... Homeland Post S3. Written for the prompt... 'Watching the big game together'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep your Eyes off that Goalkeeper

**Author's Note:**

> As it's World Cup 2014, this prompt might keep all Homeland fanfic writers busy...  
> WATCHING THE BIG GAME TOGETHER.  
> I can't wait to read the other fics... I'm overwhelmed by your creativity!  
> Please join in the fun & write something (can be football/soccer related or not at all - anything goes!)!  
> So here's my contribution... ...

 

**KEEP YOUR EYES OFF THAT GOALKEEPER**

...

"I hate soccer," Carrie grimaced at the familiar face on the flickering computer screen.

She adjusted the webcam. "Please remind me why we need to meet at a stadium in Brazil?"

"My dearest Carrie!" For a second Majid Javadi became pixelated as he wagged his finger. "You know I'm fanatical about soccer. There's no way I'm missing that game. Not for you. Not for Lockhart. Certainly not for some blackmailing scumbag."

"You? Fanatical?" Carrie snorted. "You used _Del Paraiso Football Club_ in Caracas to front your money laundering operations!"

"Not another word, Carrie." Javadi hissed nervously and checked over his shoulder. The screen froze momentarily and Carrie saw real fear in his eyes. "Whoever the blackmailer is knows all about the few dollars I'd set aside for my retirement."

"A few dollars?" Carrie sneered. "You embezzled forty five million dollars from Iran's Revolutionary Guard!"

"Shhh... Yeah and I don't have a cent of it," Javadi bristled. "But unless I pay this Venezuelan blackmailer fifteen million dollars, he's going to expose the fact that pallets of small bills delivered to the _Estadio Capital_ on a weekly basis for ten years were destined for me."

"Maybe we should just let him expose you," Carrie's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you'll enjoy hanging from a crane in Tehran?" _Like Brody_.

"Don't be naive, Carrie," purred Javadi. "I'm the head of the Revolutionary Guard now! The biggest asset the CIA has ever had. You have the honour of being my handler. Without me, you're nothing, a nobody. You'll have no influence in Iran whatsoever."

"Don't flatter yourself!" snapped Carrie. "Without you I'm still the station chief in Istanbul and the youngest station chief in CIA history."

"I agree you're a smart and beautiful woman," grinned Javadi. "Too good for that black-ops soldier you're fucking lately."

"What are you talking about?" Carrie bit her lip. "Your boyfriend, Peter Quinn." Javadi looked smug. "Or should I call him _John_? I do my research. He's been quite the shoulder to cry on hasn't he... since Brody..."

"Don't you ever mention Brody again!" Carrie spluttered. "Or Quinn. Leave them out of this."

"Carrie my dear. I'm so looking forward to seeing you again. I've missed you." Javadi smoothed his grey goatee. "It'll be fun to watch the big game together."

"What's so special about this particular game anyway?" spat Carrie. "How do you know your Venezuelan blackmailer will even show up in Brazil?"

"Carrie! It's the World Cup final! At the _Estádio Maracanã_ in Rio de Janeiro. The blackmailer is football crazy. He wouldn't miss it!"

"I hope you're right." Carrie flicked her hair. "Can we neutralise this guy after the final whistle though," begged Javadi. "I don't want to miss any goals!"

"OK," Carrie relented. "Then you're straight to Galeão Airport to fly back to Tehran."

"Aren't we gonna party all night in Rio?" Javadi cocked his head flirtatiously. "Samba maybe?"

"Party with you?" Carrie huffed. "I don't think so."

"Oh Carrie, you're a workaholic." Javadi pouted. "You ought to let your lovely blonde hair down sometime. We could have some fun together."

"Fuck off Javadi," growled Carrie. "Go pack your suitcase and get ready to fly to Brazil."

...

After their call ended Carrie studied the emails that Javadi had forwarded to her. The blackmailer was demanding fifteen million dollars, or he was going to expose Javadi's historical money-laundering operations in Caracas. He wanted to meet Javadi in Brazil. Wanted Javadi to personally hand over the money at the soccer game. Carrie frowned. _What was that all about?_

Carrie took comfort that the blackmailer didn't seem to know anything about Javadi working for the CIA. Probably assumed Javadi was alone, isolated. Had everything to lose at the hands of the Revolutionary Guard if he didn't pay up. Javadi had asked Carrie for the money. Wanted to pay the blackmailer. Carrie refused, said they needed to avoid any trouble like this in the future. The Venezuelan blackmailer would be better off captured. _Or dead_.

...

"I'm not sure I like being bait," whined Javadi as he settled into his seat behind the goal.

"You'd prefer to hang from the crane?" Carrie glared at Javadi. _I'll never forget who sealed Brody's fate._

"No. I'd prefer if you just paid the blackmailer off. The full amount." Javadi swallowed. "What if this all goes wrong?"

"Well, I'm sorry Javadi," tutted Carrie. "I don't have a spare fifteen million dollars in my budget."

Javadi looked away. His eyes brightened as he scanned the grassy pitch. "I can't believe we're here to watch the World Cup final!"

"Yeah, well enjoy it," Carrie waved her token flag half-heartedly. "I'll be too busy looking out for your mysterious blackmailer." "He booked these seats," Javadi shrugged glancing at the empty chair alongside himself.

"We just have to wait for him to show up. He'll want to look in the bag you know?" Javadi kicked the black holdall at Carrie's feet.

"Don't worry there's enough real cash in there to look genuine," Carrie reassured him. "A few million. He'll think you've paid up in full then Quinn will follow and capture him... see who he's working for."

"I don't think he's working for anyone," Javadi sulked. "I think he's some greedy small time crook from Caracas. Either a _HLBC_ banker or a guy from the _Estadio Capital_. He clearly knew a bit more about the finances of _Del Paraiso FC_ than he was supposed to."

"I'm not so sure," Carrie frowned. "You never used your real name. How would he know the money was yours?"

"Saul and Fara figured it out easily," Javadi shrugged. "They knew the secretive majority shareholder couldn't be Nasser Hejazi. Fuck they even found the photograph of me from 2003 with the banker, Edgar Cedeño. I should have been more careful."

"Well, it'll be over soon, Javadi," Carrie reassured him. "We'll question this guy. Get some answers. Then you can get back to work in Tehran. Put all this behind you."

"I was supposed to retire last year, Carrie." Javadi sighed as he now studied her menacingly. "I had forty five million dollars ready and waiting. Until Saul fucked it up."

"Shit happens," Carrie shrugged.

"Yeah," Javadi smirked. "I guess it does."

...

The blackmailer's seat remained empty. Likely the only empty seat in the _Estádio Maracanã_.

By half time Carrie was getting increasingly nervous. "He must be watching us from somewhere. Perhaps he's _made_ us?"

"Patience Carrie," grinned Javadi. "Let's enjoy the second half."

...

Carrie tried to watch the game, anxious, on edge, waiting. The only temporary relief was the goalkeeper who was now playing down their end. A six foot four vision of groomed dark hair, lean muscular legs and a beard that reminded her of the hot Navy SEALS who had got Brody into Iran.

Carrie blushed as her imagination briefly ran riot. She knew Quinn wouldn't be happy that she was thinking about anyone other than him. They'd become quite the fuck buddies in Istanbul.

"You ok." She whispered into her earpiece and scanned the vibrant, singing crowd behind.

"Mmmm...hmmm..." The mumbled reply was crackling and static. "Keep your eyes off that goalkeeper."

Carrie chuckled and had another look at him. _Perfection_.

...

The final whistle blew. A roar of _Campeões Mundiais_ went up from the astonished Brazilian contingent and Javadi clapped and cheered for the new world champions. He put his arms around Carrie and kissed her full on the lips.

"Fuck off Javadi," Carrie pushed him away and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

"Oh Carrie," Javadi looked pleased with himself. "I enjoyed watching the big game together."

"Where is this fucking blackmailer though?" Carrie's eyes darted through the crowd. "He hasn't showed up!"

"Oh, but he has," Javadi purred smugly and lifted the black bag. "I'm going to walk out of this stadium now and you'll never see me again."

Carrie's eye's widened as she finally understood Javadi's deceitful intentions. "Don't even think about it." Her heart thumped as it filled with dread. "My agents are everywhere."

"Oh Carrie." Javadi sighed. "My darling naive Carrie. Where is your most precious agent though? Agent Quinn?"

"He's up there," Carrie lied, gesturing to the opposite stand. "He'll be watching you through his scope right now with his finger on the trigger. Isn't that right Quinn?" She pressed her hand over her earpiece, eager to hear his reassuring voice.

"Carrie..." Through the static Quinn sounded strained. "Let Javadi go or they're going to kill you first... then me. They'll kill all of us!"

"You'll never get away with this, Javadi! You can't just disappear off the face of the earth with a few million dollars in a bag." Carrie inhaled and glared at her disloyal Asset. "Saul will track you down again."

"Poor girl. Still so reliant on Saul." Javadi laughed hard as he walked away. "Good luck Carrie. Thanks for the kiss. I know there's only you and Quinn here so don't try anything stupid. I'm wearing a bomb, it'll kill hundreds of people if you try and stop me."

Carrie's eyes widened then darted anxiously around the crowd. Where was Quinn being held? She contemplated shooting Javadi in the back of the head, but she had no idea where his accomplices were. In a crowd like this there could be a blood bath. _Was he really wearing a bomb?_

Javadi headed down the steps. _Where was he going now? To the pitch?_ Carrie saw a young girl at the front of the crowd squeal with joy as the beautiful bearded goalkeeper accepted her team scarf and posed for a selfie with her.

Javadi was next in line for a photograph. He turned and waved his flag defiantly at Carrie, still tightly clutching the bag of money. The little girl followed Javadi's gaze and looked up, her eyes shining. Carrie's raging fingers trembled on the gun in her pocket until she thought of her own baby daughter back at home with Maggie.

...

Time slowed for Carrie. She saw the laughing, celebrating goalkeeper blow her a kiss. He paused for reciprocation, then moved on, seemingly confused by her stony frown and failure to swoon and whoop like the other female supporters.

Carrie berated herself as she made a mental note of his shirt number.

_12_

_How can I be thinking about sexy soccer players whilst Quinn's life is in imminent danger?_

_Hundreds, if not thousands of lives are in danger because of my stupidity!_

_Because I foolishly trusted Javadi and brought him here._

Majid Javadi laughed, mocking as he danced and swayed with the cheering crowd, flags and scarves thrusting towards the handsome goalkeeper.

Carrie watched numbly, praying for Javadi to leave the stadium. Ready to start another life with his newly acquired millions. _What was Lockhart gonna say about this fuck up? And Saul?_ Carrie felt tears brimming.

...

Suddenly Javadi was flailing backwards, bloody fountains spurting from his forehead and throat. Hit before Carrie had even heard the two shots zinging from the crowd behind her. The crowd screamed. The goalkeeper collapsed on the pitch clutching his arm.

Carrie ran forwards against the surge of cowering, dispersing fans. She checked Javadi's body.

_No bomb!_

She snatched Javadi's loot bag from his quivering hand then leapt over the front row of seats, landing on top of the huge goalkeeper. Carrie examined his muscular bicep with relief. "Just a graze." Quinn's bullet had only left the faintest pink streak after exiting Javadi's throat.

"That other guy doesn't look too good though..." The goalkeeper winced as he glimpsed Javadi lying in a pulsating scarlet pool.

"He looks fine from where I'm sitting," Carrie breathed rapidly as she checked the goalkeeper over thoroughly. "I'm CIA and that guy funded terrorism for twenty years. I thought he had a bomb here today."

"Really? Fuck! That explains why you looked so miserable earlier!" The fraught goalkeeper's grimace temporarily flashed into a perfect white smile. "I blew you a kiss... I didn't get one back."

"I think his arm will be fine now," Quinn arrived, sweating and glowering as he observed Carrie's attentive dabbing.

She blushed and stood up.

"Yeah, no damage done." The goalkeeper stood shakily, towering over them both. He recoiled as he saw the full view of Javadi's crimson-soaked body, then eyed Quinn's jealous disposition and firearm nervously.

"Honestly Quinn I can't take you anywhere," Carrie turned her back on him, pretending to flirt with the goalkeeper. "Sorry my boyfriend's such a dick. He shot me in the arm once too."

...

"How did you overpower Javadi's men?" Carrie snuggled up to Quinn in first class on their flight back to Istanbul. "How did you take the shot?"

"I realised what was going on at half-time," Quinn downed a neat vodka. "I took out Javadi's two guys and hid their bodies in a toilet cubicle."

"But I thought they were holding you at the end of the game?" Carrie was confused. "I thought they were going to kill you if I stopped Javadi from leaving?"

"All theatre Carrie." Quinn shrugged. "I was just biding my time to take the shot at Javadi." "But you should have just stopped him leaving!" Carrie groaned. "Just wounded Javadi. Not killed him outright."

"I honestly thought Javadi had a bomb," Quinn paled at the memory. "If he'd detonated it..." He shivered and grabbed another miniature of vodka.

"It's OK. I understand," Carrie patted his arm. "You did the right thing."

"I'm sorry I grazed the Goalkeeper's arm though," Quinn looked embarrassed. "You must think I'm a crap shot."

"Oh? I assumed you did that on purpose." Carrie raised an eyebrow. "Thought you'd seen him blowing kisses to me?"

"Blowing you kisses, eh?" Quinn's teasing eyes narrowed before he hugged Carrie tightly. "I don't blame him. You're so beautiful."


End file.
